


Sunday School

by Radiolaria



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bullying, Episode: 2013 Xmas The Time of the Doctor, Gen, Headcanon, Humor, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 15:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiolaria/pseuds/Radiolaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mels Zucker is about to start a revolution with a pair of earrings. Alas, times are changing. Or will be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday School

**Author's Note:**

> The Time of the Doctor is indispensable to grasp this story.

Mels was struggling to put on her left earring, a very simple, tasteful, _red cross._ Revolutionary. She wanted her foster mother to be humiliated; a coup was needed after the saucepan episode of Wednesday. The trinket chosen was just discreet enough for her to go in unnoticed and sit and then…

She chortled at her reflection while picturing the neighbours, who would not fail to be there, sitting behind them, unwary, only to gasp loudly in the middle of the first prayer upon taking note of the provocative piece of jewellery.

 _Cheap piece of jewellery,_ she added, a pout on the lips. She had rather neat earrings and bracelets back in New York, stolen, necessarily, but she had to let them behind. While the stuff she managed to collect all the years in Britain got lost between moving and placements.

She always tried to have one pair of bright red, just like her mother’s hair. Red suited her; it was bold, fiery, purest. Because it stood out more in the dark, when all the other colours would fade. Impossible to miss. A bright, red beacon to insurrection. And she was going to smuggle it inside. The trick was to rearrange the braids high enough to make it pass as the classical Sunday up-do and low enough to hide the incriminating items. Inside the building, she would need no more than the flick of a finger to unleash hell in the rows nearby. Well, indignation. But for a first time in mass after more than twenty years, it was indubitably striking. She would reward herself with a session of pure Pond bragging in front of her parents.

Other than that, she was not exactly looking forward to going back to this long lost ritual, one life away literally, but she found a certain comfort in falling into old habits, however primitive and different the cult could be in the 20th century. She had always thought whoever was securing her placement in families was conscientiously avoiding practicing families, so that her faith would not be ‘tainted’ by non-orthodox thinking. They must have realised, as time went by, as years and families followed each other, that she didn't care much about religion. However hard they tried to teach her this peculiar aspect of dedication, it did not take.

Elise called her from outside where the girl had stepped to allow Mels some privacy for changing. After a week of sharing the room, they were still remarkably uneasy around one another. More often than not, Mels would find a way to scare the daylight out of the other foster kids in order to ensure some kind of supremacy. She had sensed, immediately though, she would not come anywhere near impressing the other girl by baring teeth or showing muscles. Elise had conversely guessed Mels would try to get to her and decided to shrug it off. Stalemate.

Awkward.

Mels cast a last glance at herself in the mirror, satisfied, and stepped out of the room. The kids were waiting for her. Oscar, the family younger son, let out a loud gasp and dropped the ball he was toying with before rushing to the nearest door, which happened to be a cupboard. Mels frowned and turned to Elise who was standing beside, in a sad thing of a dress, gawking. She was frozen, eyes on a spot on her forehead, an expression of such utter shock on the face, Mels thought for a second she was had.

After a minute, the voice of Mrs. C. came from downstairs and Elise closed her mouth, stared a bit more, looked to the ceiling and finally growled in frustration. Mels was about to bring a hand to her hip and unkindly tease her about her outfit and how she was obviously not ready, but Elise grabbed her shoulder and shoved her inside their room.

No sooner had Mels retrieved her wits than she opened her mouth in protest only to receive in the face one of the black frocks usually lounging on her bedstead. She fought blind, disentangled her head from the dress and barely managed to catch a glimpse of Elise stomping out of the room, banging the door behind her.

“What?" Mels shouted. "She said to get ready for Church!” 

 


End file.
